"It seems to have been a mighty mix-up out hare, fifty years ago, sir," he said mildly.
"It was a mix-up then—and is a mix-up now."
"I suppose," said Jack, "if the villain of a gentleman had never abandoned my Aunt—I can't think of her as an Aunt—he'd never have gone to Sydney, and his children that he had there would never have been born."
"I suppose not," said Mr. George drily. But he started a little and involuntarily looked at Mary.
"Do you think it would have been better if they had never been born?" Jack asked pertinently.
"I don't set up to judge," said the old man.
"Does Mrs. Watson?"
"I certainly think it would be better," said Mrs. Watson, "if that poor half-idiot cousin of yours had never been born."
"I've got Gran Ellis on my mind," said Jack. "She was funny, what she condemned and what she didn't. I used to think she was an old terror. But I can understand her better now. She was a wise woman, seems to me."
"Indeed!" said Aunt Matilda. "I never put her and wisdom together."